


I Want You Bach For Good

by TheSingingCynic



Category: Houdini & Doyle (TV)
Genre: M/M, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-04 17:24:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6667684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSingingCynic/pseuds/TheSingingCynic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a one shot that continues on from my previous story: 'Back for Bach,' but can be read alone. (Though I advise reading the other first ^-^)</p>
<p>Enjoy the smut!! And thank you for all the messages asking for it!</p>
<p>M/M goodness. </p>
<p>THIS SHOW NEEDS MORE LOVE DAMN IT!</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Want You Bach For Good

They stood side by side on the porch of Houdini’s home, arms touching as a door separated the changing course of their relationship. Houdini opened it but remained by his side, waiting for Doyle to lead them in. Houdini warily hooked his little finger around Doyle’s, a tiny act of companionship and courage to push him through, and, sure enough, Doyle stepped forward.

Doyle walked in eyes adjusting to the dim amount light; it was almost as dark as it was outside. But the slight flickering light still highlighted silhouettes of long necked wine and short squared gin, carelessly thrown about the room and many of which were shattered in anger filled corners. Doyle winced at the sight, his hand supporting him on the bedpost, as he came to the biggest collection on the nightstand completed with an opium pipe.

Houdini watched Doyle tread through his mess, he could now see what the other man must be observing right now, his internal imprisonment, his recklessness to his health. He knew Doyle would blame himself but Houdini didn’t want to talk, he didn’t want to be reminded of the past negativity.

Creeping hands slid up his chest pressing against the cotton, Doyle’s head hung forward, eyes closing slowly as he felt the heat of a body press into his back. One hand continued to roam his chest the other rose up to pull down the back of his collar, allowing room for Houdini to place kisses on his neck. Doyle relaxed under the advances, his shoulders sagging in a sigh, Houdini felt the material give and eased the jacket off, keeping his mouth breathing along the neck. He felt the man shiver as he ghosted up him, hairs standing on end as he licked a line up the back of his ear. Doyle was still holding onto the bedpost needing even more stability.

He watched Houdini’s hands start pulling up his shirt from his trousers. Houdini had buried his face between Doyle’s shoulder blades concentrating on the buttons. Hardly his most difficult escape feat yet he was struggling, a different type of apprehension and excitement clouding his skill. But he felt gentle hands wrap over his own helping him undo the last slippery few. The shirt fell open. Strong hands graced the skin, finally able to draw on bare flesh. It was suddenly so much contact; Houdini saw the image in his mind as he worked up and down the body. An unmistakably male body, his fingers weaved in and out of the downy chest hair and found the small line that trailed all the way down to his belt. There was nothing feminine about him, the broad shoulders, the few inches of height he topped over the smaller man and the rounded stomach so accommodated with writers. His fingers skated over the fine unblemished landscape, soft unmarked skin so unlike his own. Doyle turned into him, reaching up to Houdini’s buttons but Houdini’s eyes flashed impishly, grabbed his hands and forcefully pushed, the back of Doyle’s knees buckled against the mattress crashing into the centre of the bed. Houdini grinned as he spun the man by his legs so his head was on the pillow before jumping into his lap.

Houdini  straddled the man and he could feel beneath him that his caresses had already worked on the Doctor, so he slowly began undoing his own waistcoat, then his shirt. He slipped them off and they puddled somewhere beside the bed. Doyle’s mouth dried as he tried to swallow. His hand rose as if to touch, but his fingers curled in defiance. Houdini watched the confliction, he was internally begging Doyle to touch him, the desperate need to feel his hands while knowing forcing him or pushing him too hard could scare him off or make him rethink the whole thing. Instead, Houdini leant forward, knotting his fingers in the others and raising them above his head, capturing him in a deep distracting kiss as he did so. They paused to breathe, and Houdini whispered.

“You know, if you don’t want to touch, I can fix that.”

Doyle heard a chuckle escape before a loud click. His eyes widened in realisation. He pulled his hands against the headboard to check, metal clinking in obstruction. Doyle’s face turned into an unamused scowl as Houdini sat back up grinning at him, eyes so comparatively dark to their usual blue brightness. Houdini felt Doyle’s cock twitch underneath him. Houdini beamed brighter hopping off and kicking away his shoes as he ran to the end of the bed like an excitable child. Ripping off the other’s shoes too, flinging them over his shoulder then started pulling on feet of his trousers. Doyle hadn’t even noticed that somewhere during the night Houdini had undone his belt.

“What, when did you-“

But Houdini just snickered as he whisked the trousers off in one sweeping flourish holding them up as he would in his act, waiting for applause. He opened his eyes as he bowed to his captive, but the sight made him wrap his hand to his mouth, trying to hold in a vicious cackle.

“…You’re wearing boxers!” Houdini laughed controllably, a real laugh. “Where are your oh so  _sensual_  longjohns?”

Doyle flared red; he knew this was bloody coming. “Yes ok, I saw yours and thought I’d give it a go, alright? Is that really so hysterically preposterous?”

Houdini thought so and was still in a fit. “What happened to your modesty?”

Doyle was refusing to look at the hyena now, but couldn’t hide the smile of hearing Houdini experiencing an honest laugh. “Well, does anyone’s remain intact around you?”

Houdini simmered but was still beaming; he nodded in mocking reflection, “True, true.” He looked back at Doyle, green silk boxers taught with tension. “Though, they don’t look very freeing at the moment.” He nodded towards the 90-degree angle.

“Speak for yourself.” Doyle retorted but still blushed pink again.

Houdini looked down at his own tent smirking, he was loving it. Seeing this blushing and dishevelled man who was usually so well strung and closed. He was trying to memorise every second of it. “Right you are sir.” And whisked his own off. “Tadah!”  

‘I’d applaud at your obvious talents, but you know.” Doyle shook his chains rolling his eyes before they locked back with Houdini’s. Even from the poor lighting and the shadowed brow, Doyle could see how dark his eyes had become again, like they were projecting heat straight into him. It made him audibly gulp.

Houdini crawled back on top of him, leisurely, and ‘accidentally’ grating across a sensitive area. He settled on top of Doyle’s left leg, one knee slightly pressed into the other’s groin, as he rocked his hips ever so slightly he gained friction of the leg below him as did Doyle from Houdini’s knee. Doyle’s mouth fell open then tightened in almost a grimace as if the pleasure was hurting him.

Houdini leant into him his nails scratching down the sensitive exposed underarm, marking the quivering man. He began scratching down his chest, his tongue following the indents. One hand going down and one going up. The left going up swiped over a nipple as the other hand rested over the hardened member. Doyle bucked up into him, handcuffs marking his wrists as he pulled against, the friction of the silk and the radiating heat of Houdini’s hand was too much.

“No, Houdini. Stop.”  But his voice lost in a kiss. He couldn’t pull away. His heart pounded. He was so hot. The palm still working up and down, till Doyle arched off the bed as he shuddered through his crescendo, biting his lip to silence himself.

He fell back to the mattress limp. Before catching enough breath to speak.

“Release me.”

“Doyle, I.”  
  
“Get me out of these cuffs!” The man was visibly shaking.

As soon as Houdini pulled apart the lock Doyle fell to the side of the bed, incapable of looking at the other man. His legs hung over the side and his back slumped.

It was minutes before he had regained some control over his shaking, his elbows were rested on his knees and his fingers locked tight together, neither men had moved.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to yell.”

Houdini was stood tensed the other side of the bed, staring at the man’s back, nervous of what his actions had caused, he had been too rash. He was mentally kicking himself. Restraints?! What was he bloody thinking?!

A shaky sigh. “I just, I’m not usually, but Touie and I, and it’s been so long, and you’re…”

Houdini blinked at his bumbling. He wasn’t angry, he…was embarrassed. Houdini almost laughed at the ridiculous man. But knowing no words would shake sense into him; Houdini walked around the edge of the bed and knelt on the floor between his legs, looking up to the solemn and now confused face. His hands found the waist of the green silk and eased the stained boxers off.

Houdini’s hands ran up and down his thighs, his head leaning forward to nestle in the other man’s crotch.

“Ah! Houdini what are you, ahhh, doing?!” He tried to push the man away from the mess he had made but Houdini’s grip tightened on his thighs, a deep growl warned he wasn’t going to be removed. He inhaled the concoction of Doyle, dragging his nose through the tickling dark hair. He closed his eyes and licked a stripe up the soft cock tasting him. Doyle let out a sharp gasp and Houdini took it all in his mouth. Doyle’s hands sprung to the curly hair pulling hard at the roots, not forcing his head down further onto him, just needing that anchor, that connection. The pain vibrated Houdini’s own cock and his suctioned mouth groaned as his eyes rolled back. He continued to suck, cleaning Doyle with his tongue and pleasingly felt the man harden again under his ministrations.

Houdini rested back on his heels; he watched Doyle’s distant glazed over eyes focus back on him. He licked his lips tasting the final bit of Doyle. Doyle watched the tongue sweep over his lip and reached out cupping the face with his hand, his thumb tracing the route of the tongue. Houdini closed his eyes savouring the touch, his lips kissed the thumb that rested on him, his tongue peeking out to just touch the tip. Doyle pulled the face up to his, hands now both securing the smaller face, locking him in a steady kiss that communicated his understanding and thanks.

Doyle had raised both of them to his feet and suddenly flipped Houdini round pinning one of his arms against his back like a painful arrest. Houdini gulped at this abrupt turn, the sharp pain in his arm and the unexpected dominance of Doyle. His chest was pounding adrenaline with each breath. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed, oh great Houdini.” The other hand snaked into Houdini’s curls and yanked. Houdini gasped again but the corner of his mouth quirked upwards.

Encouraged by the noise, Doyle pulled the hair harder, Houdini was breathless, his throat now pulled back and exposed. “A man that is in agony every day,” He spoke softly; his hand released the pinned arm and dragged softly down his chest. Houdini’s free hand held onto the roaming forearm as it slipped inside his boxers. “A man that then goes out of his way to do himself more pain for the sake of his audience.” The kissing on his neck increased with pressure till his incisors caught the skin in the nook of the shoulder and a trickle of blood was lapped up. “Get’s off on pain when he’s not the one in control of it.”  The hand Houdini had around Doyle’s neck to support himself was getting weak as his eyes rolled back and his eyes fluttered shut, he could feel the soft rhythm of moving tendons as the Doyle’s hand gripped him with tight pressured strokes.

Houdini’s breathing was shallow, his vision blurred when he tried to open his eyes, He could feel Doyle’s erection pulsing and sliding between his covered cheeks, gliding against the silk. His hands had swung down to his sides lifeless, Doyle must be holding him up. How was he having such an impact on him?

“Am I correct?” He twisted his palm around the tip.

A whimper was his only reply.

“I said.” The hand still tight in brown curls tightened again. “Am I right?” Doyle pumped harder while biting an ear.

“Y-Yes.” It was breathless but he managed to get the word out.

“Amazing.” Mused the Doctor, unbelieving at what he was seeing, in fact so intrigued by it, his actions began to slow before stopping completely, utterly lost in thought.

Houdini was regaining some sense, irate that the sensation had laxed, his eyebrows pinched he turned his face to look at the man whose eyes were distant, contemplating scenarios, mind reeling pages of possibilities. Houdini snarled. “You and that damn brain.” He flung the man once again onto the bed. Doyle snapped back to the moment, backing up so he was sitting upright against the headboard. Houdini pounced on him, settling into his lap and burrowing his face in his neck, gold boxers grinding against Doyle’s chest. Doyle shuddered as fingernails dug into his shoulder blades, he held him close as they enjoyed the rhythmic grinding, but soon it wasn’t enough.

“Please. Arthur.”

Houdini raised his head, his lip bitten raw. Doyle searched his eyes before gently rolling them over then harshly flipping him onto his front face down into a pillow and hitching up his legs so he was on his knees. His hand pressed on that delicate arch as a blue eye peered out from the pillow, pupils blown. Doyle ripped off the boxers and then hesitated, hands now resting on his partner's arse. This would be it; this would be crossing the line. Houdini remained silent, holding in the cries as his dick was painfully screaming at him, as much as he wanted it, he wanted Doyle to want it too, but most importantly, to have no regrets. Doyle looked at the blue eye, and then down at the weeping dick hanging between the legs in front, it was an angry shade of red. This whole time Houdini had been ignoring himself for the sake of Doyle, he cursed himself for being swept up in the act and pulled the cheeks apart unexpectedly burying his face in them.

Houdini almost wept, he screamed as he felt a wet tongue trace the too sensitive ring, almost poking in but still teasingly too far away, Doyle swept up from the balls back up to the hole and finally breaking through. Houdini yelled again as the tongue sped through while simultaneously a hand had reached for his dick. His movements symmetrical in timing, his hand following the pace of his tongue, which was going as deep as it could. Houdini was shaking, his knees barely able to support his weight. Too quickly he felt the mouth remove, but Doyle’s hand was still pumping him lazily as a finger pushed back in as replacement. Houdini tightened at the shock. But Doyle’s thumb rubbed the slit of his dick to contract him again; Houdini shivered and opened at the sensation. The finger continued to probe him as a second one soon followed. Houdini mouthed Doyle’s name as he bit into the pillow. But that whisper turned into a belting scream when the Doctor found what he was looking for.

He smiled at his success; Houdini was still juddering from that slight brush. Doyle coated his dick with his precum and began sliding it between the cheeks, he rode up against the hole, cushioned either side. He moaned at the contact. Just as Houdini thought Doyle was about to enter, he was flipped over, forced to face him, Doyle wrapped Houdini’s legs around his waist. Houdini’s mouth was open at the sudden display of intimacy, this open passion. Doyle wanted to watch him. Doyle aligned himself ready then looked up for the go ahead. Houdini nodded unable to form words. As gently as he could Doyle forced himself into the heat. It was so tight it was almost painful. He fell forward hands either side of Houdini’s head. They both had their eyes clenched, Doyle eased himself into the hilt and they finally opened their eyes. Staring into each other. But Doyle didn’t move till Houdini broke the intensity.

“Move damn it! I’m not some delicate little woman. Come on fuck me!”

Doyle couldn’t help but smirk at the man’s impatience as he pulled himself out right to the tip then speared back inside. Houdini arched into him, his cock grating against Doyle’s stomach, he was already seeing white flashes but he refused to give in so soon. Doyle thrust again, still slow but directional, trying to find that same spot. Houdini unleashed the same scream and latched his arms around Doyle’s neck. Doyle panted relieved, he had found it, his thrusting became purposeful, faster, harder and driving into that spot over and over. Houdini was shaking, his thoughts a mess but vaguely aware his lips were moving on their own accord.

Houdini was meeting the thrusts and the movement was causing enough friction to his trapped erection too. Doyle listened to his first name being repeated over and over in his ear. It drove him on, turned him on immensely to hear the usually unused first name moaned so vulnerable, so wanton and needy. Their sweat was mingling together as they slid up and down each other; both starting to lose control and their rhythm became more jagged and desperate. Feeling Houdini tense, Doyle forced him down back to the pillow and held him there. He wanted to watch the show. Houdini met Doyle’s stare but it was burning, and it's heat pushed him over the edge. Doyle watched Houdini’s chin buck up his eyelids thrown back, his eyebrows raised, eyes wide seeing something that Doyle was unable to yet. He watched the open mouth curse his name and he felt warm spurts hit his stomach. Houdini danced through his orgasm, a true performance just for Doyle as he felt the man clench around him and with one final thrust emptied into the escapist.

His arms shook as they tried to keep him up and balanced as he rode out his climax. He let the euphoria flow through in waves before reluctantly easing out. He collapsed beside the other, his muscles finally giving way but still wary to not fall on top of the man below. They laid together, cooling, breathing regulating and relaying what just happened as the light danced over their now dripping and shiny bodies. Neither had the energy yet to speak but Doyle felt a small finger hook around his own. He smiled to the ceiling, exhausted and happy. The man truly was the closest thing to the supernatural he had seen, a walking miracle that changed the course of everyone who was lucky enough to experience him. He decided to wake the man up in the morning with a massage, see what he could do to help those scars. He let out a contented sigh his eyes closing on their own, finger still tightly knitted. He certainly did live up to his poster, Harry Houdini really was amazing.


End file.
